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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371937">Concepts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherandochre/pseuds/heatherandochre'>heatherandochre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Multi, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:15:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherandochre/pseuds/heatherandochre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for my 500-ish word concept drabbles. Content warnings and pairings at the top of the chapter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jacob Seed/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. BLUE GREEN RED</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Vaguely Lovecraftian. Less than 500 words. Female Deputy, no pairings. No warnings except for a vague sense of unease.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>People pass through Falls End to the Commune all the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sees them on morning patrol. Lazily driving to-and-fro on the Montana roads, keeping Staci Pratt company on his morning rant about -whatever the fuck, he’s very passionate but not very clear. Rook has time to waste here, with this job. Hope County mostly runs itself and whatever it doesn’t the unofficial heads of the community -Eli in the mountains, Adelaide down in the Marina, Whitehorse here in her cushy job- do. They’re old blood, old stock from way back when, and they keep the peace between them with short phone calls and elaborately themed community get-togethers. Rook’s new, as in three years new, and she already trusts them far further than her skinny arms could throw.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her apartment is on the second floor of an ex-motel, semi-recently renovated and has a weird quirk in the air conditioning. At night Rook sleeps with her face turned towards the big unit in the window and tries to listen for the click. The air turbine goes round and round, her eyes slide from side to side in her skull following colours that don’t exist. If you last long enough the air turns non-euclidian, pure. Most nights she doesn’t hear it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People pass through Falls End all the time. They have big white crosses painted on to the sides of their vehicles and they never stop in town. Rook counts their heads of hair: blonde, pink, brunette, brunette, brunette, black, blonde, green, brunette. She counts their motivations, too. Some come in modest clothing with massacred versions of the bible blaring out of the speakers. Some shuffle through town in dark, ragged clothes skittering from the edge of an eye line to the edge of a street, like that will save them. Some come in normal clothes, do stop in at the local bakery for a coffee and a chit-chat, and never come down again. Not the same at least.</span>
</p>
<p><span>One night, before midnight, when she’s staring at the air conditioner and it’s clicking, it’s colours, she gets a call. </span><em><span>We have a warrant. </span></em><span>Rook lies back down on her bed and watches again, gets a different call. </span><em><span>We’ve been waiting for you. Only you. Come home, my child. </span></em><span>He </span><em><span>is awake. Rejoice, the end is near. </span></em><b><em>Come. Home.</em></b> <span>Rook gets up at ten to one, dresses and drives to work. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>She parks a street down the road to have one final cigarette before she goes up in the air to where the wild things are. Watches a bundle of, Peggies, they’re Peggies, drive through town in a beat-up pick up, layered like dip at a wedding. There is no music, only the whining of an old air conditioner. Rook listens for the click.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She puts out the cigarette on her boot and walks up the street, ready to get into the helicopter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. absent anyone more qualified</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Male Deputy/Jacob Seed. Deeply unhealthy. Conditional Time Loop AU. Violence and one Deputys failing grasp on reality.  Over 500 words.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In Jacob’s incredibly poor defense, he didn’t know Rook was going to sit up and shove himself on the end of the knife. He should have, but he didn’t. Rook feels his flesh peel like bruised fruit. Skin and flesh parting like the seatide. He holds for it, the shivering snap that holds this fucked up thing together. Jacob pulls the knife back, pushes Rook around the closed-off bunker with his weight. Rook punches back like the six-foot heavyweight trained boxer he is. Jacob has as much flesh as any man, Rook pinches it and pulls where he’s getting softer with age. He kneads it too, paws clumsily, edging on something Joseph would condemn and John would bully him for, if only because Rook chose Jacob and not him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop.” Jacob hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to keep me alive.” Rook hisses back. He finds the knife again. “That’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>point.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is hell: somehow Jacob never figured that one out. It’s been- It’s been- There </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been- Too long, like this. Rook feels wrong at this point. They’d made it here, to an empty bunker near the beginning in the church, Jacob stopping him from dying and resetting. The least helpful guardian angel ever. Rook got all the way to the end, once. The first time, after he carved Jacob open and was left with nothing and Joseph. Now only Jacob can end this. He can only end this </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>way-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jacob hits him. Hard. “Then don’t-” Rook twists to get up, Jacob hits him again.  “Don’t be a brat. What’s your endgame, Deputy? You’re going mad in this puzzle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rook hits him back. “That’s the point, </span>
  <em>
    <span>peaches,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Rook has </span>
  <em>
    <span>been </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the end where the madman was right. Now he’s stuck here in the fucking minutae with everything hanging on another kind of madman. One who can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>figure it the fuck out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m going to go mad. Completely out of my goddamn mind and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re still going to have to save me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Idiot. Fool. One of them, both. Why couldn’t it be divinely touched Joseph, who would happily believe this was all about him. Too unloved Faith, who’d float through this with her green-white bullshit Bliss and vicious will to </span>
  <em>
    <span>survive. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even John would be better. Anything but Jacob who doesn’t believe in anything and ate the only man he ever loved to </span>
  <em>
    <span>prove a fucking point.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rook shivers closer and winds his arms around the scarred neck. Jacob tastes like dirt, man and a little bit of silver-rust. Rook has done this before because he remembers more often. Jacob always reacts the same: a mirror reflection of atoms, judging and condemning the person he’s intimate with by use of tongue and mouth and body. Delicious, very bad for Rook. This one ends with his heart out. Maybe his cock too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strong. You’re going to have to make me strong enough.” Jacob’s pupils blow out, no fucking prizes for that kink. “But I will make you weak in equal measure, and you will still have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>keep </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.” No tearing it out, no eating it whole. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Live with it, you bastard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Rook throws him away and leaves the bunker. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one had a big Hannibal NBC feel where Rook eventually forces Jacob to be the better person because their lives EXTREMELY depend on it. Also lots of uncomfy cannibal leanings. Jacob Seed is His Own Warning etc. Vaguely happy end? For these two, anyway.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. in the age of icons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fae Folk AU, sort of. Would be a fucked up Joseph/Deputy pairing. Supernatural themes. Well over 500 words.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Over the white hills, they come singing. The People of Eden’s Gate know to hide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ride on their white horses over the green hills in line with the seasons. In Spring comes the Old Lady of Shallow Waters. She comes with her lover and her kin, her first husband draped on the back of a wild cat. She laughs long and loud and her Hunt is playful. Vengeful. Seductive and horrifying. She leaves maidens and crones alike but takes the beautiful and the arrogant to her eternal feast in water only hip-high. All her killing is done in the shallows. All her playing too. The Hunt of Winter belongs to the Whitetails and their Man of Many Hollows. The loose band of mercenary near dead that come off the mountains and down towards the fresh sheep when all the prey in their territory is reduced to nothing. The People go underground and listen for months as they stalk aboveground crying and jeering for more things to kill. They make merry with corpses-some of them with flesh still on the bones, the faces of The People intact. The Man of Many Hollows was once Herald Jacob’s closest friend and it is in this season that they go toe to toe with each other. Wolves against wolves. The High King comes in Summer and sets himself to walking the edges of Hope County. They say he hears everything. He hears dreams and connects nightmares. Summer is safe enough above ground but every so often the High King will stop and whisper </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thought will spread and muddy the Faith that saves them. The children kept safe by the grace of the Fathers hand sicken. The borders crumble and good, faithful folk disappear. Summer is a disease that weakens them all. Summer scares her the most.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Autumn is for rogues. The Law, as they call themselves. Heretical, unfaithful men and women down in Falls End. Those come to the Gates most often. They demand the time, the attention of the most important members of the Flock. They’re insidious and cannot be kept away. They have Laws you see, and The People must obey. If asked you must give a hands worth of food. If asked you must give a nights worth of shelter. If asked you must allow them into your home. If asked you must surrender. Some have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked </span>
  </em>
  <span>and gone away. Some have come back touched by the High King. Faithless. Wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every morning they gather in their white church and let the Father bless them. In these walls they are safe from the awful singing that comes over the hills. They pray to the Father and the Collapse that will free all of them from this carcass of a world. This horrid fearful existence. Sometimes the Herald’s join them: Jacob with his scars and his bloodied sword. John with the Scales on his hands, fit to judge them all. Faith with her eyes full of Bliss and her song louder than the rest. The Father, divinely brought to keep The People safe. Naked so they may see the scars he has borne for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are told again and again about what they have </span>
  <em>
    <span>suffered </span>
  </em>
  <span>to keep The People safe. John hurts you when he judges, but he is kinder than the Law, that does not love The People. Not enough to make them </span>
  <em>
    <span>worthy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jacob takes any he sees fit to the mountains and anoints them in song and paint before they sacrifice themselves to keep the Whitetails away. Faith, lovely, wonderous Faith, takes those addled by the Hunt and makes them </span>
  <em>
    <span>Angels </span>
  </em>
  <span>to live in God’s grace forever. The Father talks to them, only ever talks, but he can be pushed, and when he is...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Father keeps the Hunt away. John commands the air and Faith the growing things. Jacob the animals and Joseph, the Father himself, the hearts and blood and mind of anything with a soul for God to touch. They are keeping The People safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rook believes this. She has to believe this.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>God, this one was fun. Rook is a born member of The People (...maybe, there's a chance she was changeling child) and grew up knowing she was going to join Joseph's inner circle with the implication of being a faery bride. It would have been about the intimacy of faith, the malleability of truth and probably big dicks and faery fights. As I've said before: I am what I am. I is what I is. </p><p>Two paths: one the Seeds send Rook down to infiltrate Falls End as a loyalty test and she gets turned. Two: she gets taken by force and sways between her adoration of Joseph, her fear of The People and the lies she's been told. Either way someone is getting some good dick somewhere. </p><p>As always my tumblr: sparrowsandswallows.com</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IDK what happens next. I assume the game continues apace but worse and more full of existential despair.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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